


Recuperation

by Hexiva



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, James Bond is Terrifying, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29305380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexiva/pseuds/Hexiva
Summary: Bond/Leiter through the eyes of a civilian.
Relationships: James Bond/Felix Leiter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Recuperation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm challenging myself to post a fic every day this month, so I whipped this fic up at the last minute. For MI6-Cafe's Rarepair February Challenge.

Being the chief security officer for the American embassy in Sweden was not, usually, a particularly dangerous job. Oh, it could be interesting, plenty of colorful characters, big egos - but real danger tended to stay far away from the embassy itself. So Albin Michael Ljungborg had been utterly shocked to find himself taken hostage by a group of militant British ex-patriots. 

Despite having been held for three days, Albin had not the slightest idea what their actual demands or politics were. They had flown a flag featuring a cross, and so Albin assumed religion was involved somehow, but beyond that, all he knew was that they were heavily armed and ruthless. 

But, thank god, the terrorists were gone now. Some of them had been handcuffed by the CIA and handed over to the Swedish police, but quite a few of them had been killed when the British authorities made their appearance. Albin shuddered at the memory of the British agent in charge of the assault on the terrorists. He had been a middle-aged white man, blond, average height and average in looks. Nothing to distinguish him - except his eyes. There had been something cold and dead in his eyes. Albin had been hiding under a desk as the Englishman fought the terrorists, watching as he pinned the last terrorist. The terrorist had begged for his life. Albin didn’t think he would ever forget the look in the British agent’s eyes as he had said, “No,” and pulled the trigger.

Albin shook the memory off. It was over. It was over, and back to business. Back to his real life. Right now, he wanted to know what had happened to the various items the terrorists had stolen. If he was to get the embassy running as usual again, he would need to know where everyone’s property had gone.

He caught one of the police by the arm. “Pardon me, officer, but do you know where I could find that man from the CIA - the one in charge of the negotiations? I have a few questions for him.”

The officer blinked. “You mean Agent Leiter?” she said. “I think he’s in the break room, resting. It was a hell of a long day for him.”

Albin believed that. Leiter had been the voice on the other end of the line the entire time Albin had been held hostage, always cool and calm no matter what the terrorists threatened him with. A man with nerves of steel.

“I’ll only be a minute, I won’t keep him from his rest,” Albin promised, and found his way to the back of the building. He pulled open the door to the break room - and froze.

The British agent was sitting there on the couch, clad in his blood-stained grey suit. Agent Leiter was curled up on the couch, his head on the Englishman’s lap, his eyes shut, snoring loudly. It was not a large couch, and there was barely room for the two large men on it. 

When Albin opened the door, the British agent looked up and made eye contact with Albin. His eyes were a cold, bright blue, and they said:  _ I will not hesitate to shoot you if you wake him. _

Very carefully, Albin shut the door again, his hands shaking. The lost property could wait. After the day he’d had, Albin decided, what he really needed was a strong drink.


End file.
